


cardinals

by bi-tlejuice (bi_tlejuice), bi_tlejuice



Series: adventures of lydia deetz and the b-man [12]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice) - Fandom, Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Excessive Drinking, F/M, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, beetlands, beetlejuice is a guide, beetlelands, it's an AU babeyyyyyy, lydia is an imp, what if everyone was in the netherworld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_tlejuice/pseuds/bi-tlejuice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_tlejuice/pseuds/bi_tlejuice
Summary: Beetlejuice has been blessed with the role of being a guide for any recently deceased individuals that Juno feels may need persuading to leave the world of the living. At least, this is the official job description he reels off like a tape recorder whenever people ask him who he is. Really, Juno hand-picks the cases she thinks he will hate the most.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland
Series: adventures of lydia deetz and the b-man [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690348
Comments: 23
Kudos: 122





	1. staring at a hole in your chest that's been dug there for decades

**Author's Note:**

> hi again! i promise i tried to write a little fluffy nice thing (i've got two on the go) but this is what i was really vibing with at the moment. normally, i don't post stuff until ive got a couple chapters ready, so the updates might be a bit all over the place- please bare with me!! i also just want to pop a special thanks in to @upperstories and @paperpaperowl from tumblr; a convo with owlie inspired this fic, and uppers is just all round super lovely. happy reading!! (ALSO barbara is a biker in this because im gay)

"Guess who's _drunk_ ," he slurs, kicking the front door shut and poorly missing when he attempts to throw his keys onto the table. They slide along the scuffed oak and swing into the air after bumping into one of his sneakers, smacking Lydia in the head where she's hovering above his couch.

"I guess _Beetlejuice_ ," she scowls, throwing the keys back at him and expertly hitting him in between the eyes with the miniature bong keyring. "And here I was, waiting patiently to eat the dinner I made us."

"You've never cook'd a day in your fuckin' life, Lyds," he yawns, falling face first on to his lumpy mattress. "'n yer waiting in my house. Get- get your own house."

"I'd hardly call this shit-hole cave a house," she says, throwing something else at his head. When he finally summons the will to raise his head, it turns out to be a crunchie bar with only a small amount of dried blood on the packet.

"Nice cookin'," he teases, but she probably doesn't hear around the sound of him eating half the bar in one mouthful."You kill someone for it?"

"No, obviously not. Everyone's already dead. I just dropped a brick on the bridge-troll's head and stole it."

"Atta girl," he yawns again, curling around the blanket. It's too thin and smells kind of like a sad ashtray, but a bed is a bed is a _bed_ , and he's drunk enough that he'd happily sleep on broken glass at this point. Lydia seems to sense this, tossing her chocolate bar wrapper on his bed so he can eat it in the morning before curling up on the sofa. It's a miracle to him, every time she manages to make herself that small - she insists imps can't shapeshift, that it's just how she curls her tail around her knees, but Beetlejuice doesn't really believe it. Lydia's too sneaky to ever tell him about any mysterious hell powers she could eventually use against him. "Night, eye-Lyds."

"Goonight, _weirdo_ ," she sighs, but when he peeks from over the top of the blanket she's smiling. All in all, today was alright. 

Who's he trying to kid? Not Lydia, she knows more than anyone how much he hates pretty much everything he's got going for him; he comes home enough in drunken stupors that it's brutally obvious. The only good thing that really happened today is that Maria drank _with_ him (at the only bar in a fifty mile radius he _isn't_ banned from) so instead of being cut off and crying on the walk home, he got a shit ton of free alcohol and is in a wonderful mood. If he could, he'd freeze time on a moment like this- drunk and blissed out with a tasty snack and his best friend.

Unfortunately, time doesn't work that way and he's woken up a while later with a stiff neck to the sound of his phone buzzing from where it's slipped under the bed. Obviously, he ignores it, but after a ten second pause it starts vibrating at ten times the volume and Lydia growls and throws a pillow at him repeatedly until he picks it up. "Mmuh?" is his professional response, but he's sobered up enough that his stomach still drops when the other person sighs.

"Are we playing an alcoholic again, Lawrence?" Juno tuts, sounding her usual amount of just disinterested enough to hurt his feelings. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I really didn't think you needed to add anything else to your long list of disappointing traits." Beetlejuice doesn't respond, partly because his head is spinning and partly because there's no response he can give that's going to make her feel as bad as she's making him feel. "Nothing to say? Shocking," she muses, and he can almost feel her sharp nails digging into his shoulder. "Well, your... evening activities aside, I need you to do your job. There's some newly-deads in about to meet their end in a rather gristly motorcycle crash, and I have a feeling they're not going to come quietly. Adam and Barbara Maitland, late twenties."

"T'morrow?" he asks, scratching his face by rubbing it into the pillow case. The cool thing about being dead is that he can snap his fingers and have all the alcohol leave his system at once. The not cool thing about this is that it doesn't get rid of his hangover, and there's also not a very- uh, _nice_ way of doing it. 

That's why, when Juno says, "Hm, I'd say an hour in breather time," he mumbles confirmation and hangs up so he can drag himself to the toilet. God, he hates vomiting. When he's finished - and really, what a waste of a chocolate bar - there's some co-ordinates scratched into his bedside table, some shitty little village in Connecticut. 

"Those scratches better come out," he warns nobody in particular, with Lydia still curled up asleep in the corner. She's half on the arm of the sofa and half hovering off the edge, but she starts purring when he lays his blanket over her. The keys are in the door when the hat jumps off the hook and lands at his feet, twitching until he glares and puts it on. It's a stupid fucking hat, he has _words_ to tell them what he's doing. Maybe they're going to be illiterate newly-deads, and then they won't know what the hat says and it will be pointless. Then again, Juno says nobody is illiterate other than him. Besides, the hat looks really sad when he takes it off. 

Beetlejuice has been blessed with the role of being a **guide** for any recently deceased individuals that Juno feels may need persuading to leave the world of the living. At least, this is the official job description he reels off like a tape recorder whenever people ask him who he is. Really, Juno sends him to people who she thinks he will personally hate- whether it's because it's a sad case of like a kid in an accident or an arrogant asshole who refuses to admit he's dead. It's ironic, because without restrictions he really wouldn't mind this kind of job - it's one of the only ways to meet new people without showing up on a stranger's doorstep, and appearances aside, Beetlejuice actually really likes making friends. But Juno hates him, for whatever reason, and she's cursed him so that he can only go to the living world on a job and only on a job she's picked for him, and she picks shit ones. All in all, it's probably worse than having no job at all. Sure, he wouldn't meet new _people_ , but he has Lydia, and he doesn't really _need_ anyone else. 

"Just another day on the job," he says to the spiders who live on his front doorstep, giving the biggest one a scratch on the head after locking the door. "The shitty, shitty job." The spider twitches its legs as if it understands, but really, it's probably just enjoying the scratch. It's alright for some.

It's a beautiful day when he arrives on the bridge in Connecticut, wherever that's supposed to be. Juno likes to send him to the real gristly ones, so there's a lot of Jersey deaths, but other than the suicides in New York he doesn't think he's been anywhere nearby. But yeah, the sun is setting low in the sky but it's still pleasantly warm. Soft pinks and oranges are dusted across the sky, the kind of colours that don't really naturally occur anywhere in the Netherworld, and for a few moments he's almost glad she made him come. 

Then a motorcycle starts humming in the distance, over the other side of the bridge, and he braces himself. What with being dead, he made his peace with death quite a while ago, but there's something different about _watching_ people die. Juno said _gristly_ , which can sometimes mean gross and sometimes _long_. Beetlejuice doesn't mind gristly, because people keep their death wounds unless they get real good at hiding them. Beetlejuice _does_ mind long, because watching people die, watching them realise they _know_ they're going to die. It's something else.

Hopefully it's quick. At least they're going to die together. Watching one of the ghosts realise the other can't seem them is only something that's happened to him a couple of times, but ideally it's something he'll never have to experience again. 

The motorcycle speeds around the corner, and he'd never tell but Beetlejuice closes his eyes until the engine putters to a slow stop. Slowly, he peeks open an eye, watching the couple safely tuck themselves to the side and pull off their helmets. It's a little too far for him to hear them talking, but the woman's climbing out of the driver's seat and nudging the man off the back, poking at something and looking a little confused. It's funny, they look like the last kind of people to ride a motorcycle; suburbanite nerds in paisley floral and semi-matching leather jackets. It's even funnier that the tiny blonde woman is the one driving. 

Only, the time of their death is definitely within the next minute, and they're not even _on_ the motorcycle. Nobody seems to be around, either. 

Then the car comes speeding down at a million miles per hour, and Beetlejuice understands now. The couple hear it, but they're tucked right at the edge of the bridge so far from the road that it doesn't seem to be of any concern to them. It makes sense, really - such an innocent, lovely couple would almost definitely assume that even someone speeding still would overall respect the road rules. Situations like these make Beetlejuice wish he could affect the world of the living. There's no place in the Netherworld for people like that. 

But, low and behold, the car reaches the bottom of the hill and swerves too heavily, spinning out and crashing into the end of the bridge. A few seconds before it comes to a stop, the left back wheel slides along the bridge, knocking the both of them into the wall lining the bridge. It's quick. The driver realises what he's done and floors it, with the couple left crumpled on the floor. 

Now that he's reassured the death was painless and instant, he doesn't feel bad finding it funny when they leave their bodies. It's an objectively amusing thing, watch what _looks_ like a living person climb out of their own body. Maybe he's just desensitized to this kind of stuff.

Beetlejuice starts making his way over, letting them have their obligatory realisation and subsequent freak-out before gracing them with his beautiful face.

"...maybe," the husband is saying, hands on the wife's shoulders, "nothing has to change. We're still here, we're together- let's just, just. Go home?"

"Adam, we're _dead_ , we can't just _go home._ " 

"No- Barbara, honestly, let's just go home and we can work this all out later."

Beetlejuice straightens his tie and his stupid cap, plastering a friendly grin on his face. "Hello." Immediately, they step back, pressing up against the wall to get as far away from his as possible. "Do not be afraid," he says, similar to the Angel Gabriel greeting the virgin Mary, except everyone's dead and he might be the furthest thing from an Angel in the world. "You _are_ dead. I am also dead. I am here to _guide_ you."

"Guide us _where_ , exactly? Who are you?" the woman frowns, pushing the man behind her as if she's planning on protecting him with her tiny body. Up close, they aren't quite as boring as they'd seemed - the husband is cute in a kind of nerdy way and a nice amount of tall, and the women is pretty hot in a kind of intimidating way. She looks like she could probably clock him out with a punch if she wanted to, and that's something he's finding attractive for whatever reason.

Both of them step a little closer to him to read the flag he pulls out of his pocket. It's stripy, embroidered with his name in cursive because he got blood all over the piece of paper he had for ages. Lydia made it for him, obviously, that's why it looks nice. "Beetlejuice?" the husband sounds out, stepping back again when Beetlejuice grins.

"The one and only. You must be the Maitlands?"

"Um- I'm Adam, this is Barbara- um, so we _are_ dead?"

"You're dead," he confirms, nodding in sympathy as he momentarily sinks his head into his hands. "Don't worry, though- really, what you've done barely scratches the surface. Now you get to spend eternity together in the _Netherworld_?"

"Like- like _Hell_? You're telling me that we're going to _Hell_? But- I thought we lived nice lives- I mean, I know we weren't Christian, but-"

"Death don't discriminate, A-dog. Everybody ends up in the Netherworld- speaking of, we should probably get going."

Barbara's hand tightens around Adam's, still staring Beetlejuice down fiercely as if _he_ was the one who killed them and condemned them to everlasting hell life. "What if we don't want to come?"

"If you linger on Earth for too long, you'll fade into nothingness." Now- this is _technically_ true. As in, in all of recorded history, it has happened before. The exact time it takes is not entirely clear, they know it's roughly around eight or nine hundred years, but there would be all _kinds_ of issues if every ghost stuck around for that amount of time, so Juno makes him say that to persuade them against it. It's not a lie, strictly speaking, just not the whole truth. "So, kids, we got a couple options. We could sit around while you read the book, and I'll drop you to the waiting room when you're done, or I could take you there now and give you the down-low on the whole being dead thing on the walk."

"Book?" she prompts, frowning when he pulls the handbook out of his jacket. "This is huge."

"That's why I offered a summary. You can keep the book, so if you wanna read it later I won't stop you. 's not like you don't have time." Neither of them look particularly happy about this, but there's not really any other more favourable options. "So, we ready to rumble?"

"I don't trust this," Barbara says, clearly to Adam and not to Beetlejuice even though he's totally standing right there. "What do you want to do, honey?"

"I take offence to that, B-town, I'm the real deal- hey, look at my hat! It says it very clearly."

"I can see what you were going for, but it says- um, I think 'guide' is spelled wrong. The- the 'u' is supposed to be before the 'i'," Adam helpfully points out. 

"There's a 'u' in guide? _Why_?" Barbara eyes him down while he stares at his hat, rolling her eyes when he finally gets the message. "Oh- _oh,_ this is like, private married conversation time. My bads." Adam smiles in thanks, which is kind of sweet, and Barbara looks maybe twenty percent less scary as he walks away. There's a little bump of grass at the side of the road that he hovers over cross-legged, holding the hat in his hands. He's so gonna kill Lydia for not telling him it was spelled wrong. 

Altogether, this is going pretty well. Adam seems on board, like some kind of loveable simp who would do anything for his wife, and from how she's looking at him now it looks like she'll end up agreeing with him. There's just one thing, really. Normally, Beetlejuice doesn't love this job because even while he likes meeting new people, they tend not to like him. He's not saying Adam and Barbara seem like they _like_ him, it's probably far from it, but it feels kind of like- it's hard to explain. Like maybe, in different circumstances, they _could_ like him. There's something there, enough that they could at least be friendly acquaintances, and that's more than he could ask for. That isn't going to happen, though. The Maitlands will come with him to the Netherworld and they'll go their separate ways and never see each other again. They'll carry on being all married and happy and lovely, and he'll carry on getting blackout drunk and making it Lydia's problem. 

"Mr- um, Mr. Beetlejuice?" Barbara calls, looking a lot less angry. "Will we be split up? If we go, I mean."

"No ma'am," he says, floating back over towards them. "You're quite lucky, to die together."

"That's a very optimistic way to look at things!" Adam beams, wincing when Beetlejuice screws his face up.

"Hardly. You were always gonna die- sure, you could've lived longer, but if the options were either live longer or die together, you'd be stupid not to die together." Neither of them look convinced so he sighs, rummaging around for some chalk in his jacket pocket. "The Netherworld is like- it's whack, dude. Nothing stays in the same place. If you died separately, chances are you'd never find each other again." Silence settles as he _still_ can't find the chalk, but he doesn't miss the _look_ they give each other.

"So- um, do you have someone? That you died with, I mean?"

"Nah, I didn't die. I was born-dead."

"You were _what_?"

"Born. Dead. Like, my mom was a human, she fucked a demon, she stole all his powers and became immortal, and _bam_ , there I was. Already dead."

"So... you're all by yourself?" she says, and okay, he wasn't expecting the conversation to take that kind of turn.

"Nah," he says again, ignoring how much he wants to say _I'm so, so crushingly lonely, please,_ _ **please** be my friends. _"This kid stays with me sometimes- hey, it's not weird. She's not even human, she's an imp. We're super good friends, she's just- super busy, or whatever." Barbara looks at him, smiling for the first time - he thinks maybe it's sympathy, but he's never been good at reading emotions - and opens her mouth like she's about to say more. Beetlejuice feels like he's been vulnerable enough for the day and ends the conversation by discovering the chalk in his pocket. "Bingo! Now, who wants to draw the door?"

Adam squints at the chalk as if it's going to grow teeth, but Barbara holds her hand out. "What do I need to do?"

"Draw a door," he repeats, tapping his hand up against the wall they're still stood by. Behind him, their bodies have attracted the attention of a passing biker. Behind his back, he snaps his fingers so that the man's voice fades out and doesn't distract them. That's hardly what they need right now. Slowly, Barbara draws the door, slightly too small for Adam but good enough. "Now, knock three times."

"This feels kind of silly."

"Not like anyone can see us, sweetheart," he says, and she frowns at him but does it anyway. Sure enough, it swings open and they're both encompassed by the green fog. It's always kind of funny when they do that. "Here we go, kids."


	2. american broken promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the general sense, Beetlejuice would sum his life up to be overall, pretty shit. But. But. Without Lydia, it would probably be a lot worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust me i know these first two are a lil boring but bare with me!! i don't write aus often so i just wanna set everything up before it all kicks into motion

Barbara and Adam are a little disorientated when they arrive in the waiting room, but considering how little exciting life experience he assumes they have, it's impressive how quickly they recover. Luckily, today isn't too bad in terms of how crowded it is - though, there is a particularly mutilated teenager in the corner who won't stop crying, and that summons Barbara's attention relatively quickly. Before Beetlejuice can tell her to stay away, she's wrapped an arm around their shoulders and is quietly consoling them. 

"Isn't she just the sweetest?" Adam says from behind him, watching as the kid stops crying and starts nodding along to whatever Barbara is saying. He looks and sounds completely smitten, and for a moment Beetlejuice's heart aches for someone to feel remotely similar about him. 

"We gotta get going," he says instead, watching as Barbara squeezes the kid's hand before standing up and following. 

"Are they going to be okay?" she asks, reaching out to touch his sleeve when he doesn't turn around. It freaks him out more than it should, but he manages to play it off without them noticing. Hopefully.

"Probably. Kids go somewhere else, they aren't just dumped on the street."

"Are _we_ about to be dumped on the street?" Adam frowns, stopping in the hallway. "And wait, aren't we supposed to wait in- um, in the _waiting_ room?"

"Yes, _Adam_ , you wait in the waiting room if you want to sit and do nothing for like, a bajillion years before getting dumped on the street. If you stop talking and follow me, you won't be." Strictly speaking, he's not supposed to do this any more. He hasn't done this since- well, it doesn't matter. This can't go wrong like that did, because Adam and Barbara have each other and aren't going to ever see him again once he sets them up. "You guys haven't pissed me off that much, so I figured I'd stick ya a favour." Adam still looks hesitant, but he looks a little bit sad when Beetlejuice huffs and rolls his eyes (at least, enough that he feels kind of bad.) "I'm not sure what's so hard to understand, big guy. Stay here, wait forever for shitty mud house. Come with me, nice life package after a few hours."

"Why, though?"

"My buddy helps delegate this shit. Can't do it too often without getting in trouble, but I haven't done it in a good while."

"No," Barbara says, nudging Adam to keep walking. "I meant, why are you doing that for us when you could just leave us in the waiting room?"

This stops him in his tracks for a second. It's a valid question- it's not like he hasn't guided _nice_ people before, there's been a reasonable few over the many years that he's liked plenty. "I dunno," he says, carrying on walking. "You guys seem alright, I guess," is all he manages to come up with, and Barbara doesn't push it any more. He's being careless, _gilipollas_ like Maria says (she won't quite tell him what it means, but he doesn't like the implication she gives) but something is telling him to do it anyway. Oh well. Again, he's _never_ going to see them after this. It can't come back to bite him in the ass. 

When he introduces the Maitlands to Maria, she doesn't seem so sure. Of course, she does all the formalities and introduces herself as _Miss Argentina_ even though she technically lost the title when she dies, shakes their hands and whatever. She gives them the form and they huddle over her desk to flick through it, leaving her leaning up against the wall with him. "Do not think I don't know what you're doing, BJ."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. You know what happened last time-"

"This isn't _last time_ ," he snaps, glaring at the flytrap on her desk. Lydia watered it for one day and it grew human teeth, but it still likes him so overall he considers it to be a success. There's a pause, bar the Maitlands chattering to each other on the other side of the room, and he sighs. "Sorry. It's true, though. Look at these guys." Adam's head is tucked over Barbara's shoulder as she writes, pointing at different things and occasionally pressing a kiss up to her cheek. "They're hardly gonna seek me out. I think they're pretty set."

Maria nods, turning to face him. He thinks maybe she rolls her eyes when he doesn't look at her, but he's not looking for a reason so he can't be sure. "Maybe. Be careful, BJ."

"I always am." She laughs, because he's maybe been careful two times in his millennia-long life span. Realistically, she's probably planning on taking the piss out of him more, but Adam announces that they've finished and is walking over with Barbara in tow. They're holding hands, like some kind of gross cute couple, and Beetlejuice only now realises that he probably has to say goodbye now. "Alright, it's been _swell_ , but this guy gotsa job to do." It's a complete lie- on his agenda is hanging out with Lydia and probably getting really drunk, but they don't need to know that. It's just easier for everyone if he leaves now.

"Oh- okay, um," Adam says, seeming genuinely caught off-guard by his departure. "I- thank you, so much. For all of this, I mean."

Beetlejuice just shrugs, because he doesn't want them to be a big deal, but Barbara reaches for his hand and smiles earnestly. "Seriously. Dying was- well, it was _shit_ ," she says, and the way she _whispers_ the swearword makes his stomach flutter a little bit. "But thanks to you, the actual being dead part doesn't seem that bad." He grins reflexively, planning on doing something **cool** like mock-saluting when she leans forward and hugs him, which _totally_ throws him. Sure, he's done them a favour, but nobody hugs him, not really. To make matters worse, before he can collect himself, she steps away and Adam hugs him. 

Beetlejuice isn't a sap, but it's nice. Barbara's a little shorter than him and a lot smaller, whereas Adam is taller and much more solid against him. Both are like, the best thing that's happened to him since he met Lydia. When he pulls back, they're both smiling at him, wide and genuine. Hmm. Maybe this could go wrong after all. "Well, I'll be seein' you." He inserts the mock salute here, because he's got to maintain his dignity somehow, and then he's closing the office door behind him and letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

_That's it, dickwad_ , he firmly reminds himself as he walks past his mother's office door and absolutely does not look at it. _You're never going to see them again, so it doesn't matter_. Whatever. Maybe he'll get some nice food from the rotting Chinese place and him and Lydia can actually hang out instead of bicker and drink.

"'m so fucking high," Lydia groans into his couch pillow, giggling when he stands up and stumbles, even though it's _her_ shoes he's nearly tripping over. 

"Don't- don't say that. You're like, a kid baby. Child. I shouldn't smoke with you."

"Beej, I'm literally imp," she protests, throwing _something_ at him. Maybe a stray cold noodle. "I've been alive for the longest, ever. I dunno why I look so baby, pass the joint." Beetlejuice rolls his eyes but does so anyway, watching as she shifts around on the sofa to get comfortable. His shitty apartment is cold, because Juno doesn't pay him and he can't buy heating, so she's curled up with her knees to her chest, wings tucked behind her. After a moment of watching her smoke, he pulls the blanket off of his bed and throws it at her. "Not cold."

"You are, shut up." If it was warmer, they could smoke on the balcony, but it's not. 

"Hey, when you came back from work you weren't depressed," she points out after a few minutes of TV noise. She was watching it when he came back and yeah, he'd hit her with the normal _hey, don't you have your own house_ and she'd said _holy shit, did you get a Chinese_ and that was that, really. "You're always fucking moping after work- what, you kill your mom?" Lydia does have her own house, but the thing with imps (apparently, because Beetlejuice has never really understood) is that they have a lot to _do_. They're kind of like the errand-rats of the Netherworld, so Lydia can't stay at home when she's supposed to be helping out whoever makes her help. It's a bad system, especially for imps that look like young girls. Lydia likes her family, but it's better for them if they don't _know_ she's hiding instead of doing jobs on the street like she's supposed to be doing.

"Impressive observation, Lydia," he yawns, dropping a fried cockroach into his mouth. "Mh. It wasn't bad."

"Who was the dead'un?"

"It was this whole married couple, dude. They were like- I dunno."

"You look suspicious," she decides, leaning her head on his knee when he decidedly ignores her. "Did you kiss someone."

"I- _no,_ Lyd, what the _fuck_. They're a _married couple_."

"Yeah, and? Death _awakens_ something in people," she says, wiggling her eyebrows. He just flicks her in the nose. "C'mon, I can tell you're already in love with them. What, did they accidentally brush past you? Did your fingers bump when you handed them the book?"

"I don't appreciate your tone," he scowls, swatting away her tail when she tries to lift his hat with it. Clearly, Lydia's in the mood to be annoying, so she doesn't drop it until he sighs and says, "Fine, they hugged me goodbye. Are you happy now?"

"No, but I'm sure you were."

"You're the worst and I literally hate you." Lydia just laughs, shifts so she's lying against his side and watching the TV. Beetlejuice gets the sense that she'll probably bring this up again but the conversation is over for now. Lydia _is_ the worst. Hanging out with her hardly does much for his image, either - before they met, he was already Juno's disgraced son, some alcoholic loner who's banned from _most_ of the nice bars - and now he's harbouring an imp. Some people think there's something going on, which is all kinds of gross, and other people just think imps are vermin, which is again not making him look great. However.

Looking down at Lydia now, already snoring where she's slumped against his arm, he doesn't care. He decided he didn't care a _long_ time ago, and that's been it ever since, really. She's annoying and loud and messy, and all she does is steal his food and sleep on his couch. She's also the closest thing he's ever had to a best friend, and he would literally do anything for her if she asked. 

In the general sense, Beetlejuice would sum his life up to be overall, pretty shit. _But_. But. Without Lydia, it would probably be a lot worse. 


	3. caught between the lies you've been fed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Beetlejuice is sad. Not in the kind of way where everyone's sad sometimes, probably a little closer to an 'I'm-living-with-years-of-trauma-under-my-belt' kind of sadness, but even that doesn't quite cover it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait. im struggling with this one at the moment, but i hate leaving things unfinished so i'll keep cracking at it!
> 
> tw for implication of self-harm, suicide, all that kind of thing. it'll probably crop up more

The odd thing is, even when Beetlejuice meets newly-deads that he really likes, he moves on pretty quickly. Ever since Frankie and like, every single thing that happened there, he got pretty good at not lingering on anyone. Generally, the pattern involved coming home, getting royally drunk and depressed, and doing some nothing the next day. It sounds dumb, especially because there's not really any _sun_ in the Netherworld, but even without the warmth it makes him feel a teeny, tiny bit better. And that's better than nothing. Besides, his garden is overgrown with lots of dangerous sentient plants, and they make good conversation if he wants to complain about something. Beetlejuice is still kind of thinking about Adam and Barbara, so he rolls a cigarette, swipes up the leftover Chinese, and makes his way outside.

Some of the vines are still sleeping when he lets the gate bang shut, and they're not too happy to be woken up. One of them wraps around his ankle, pulling at his shoelace until he tosses them a handful of sad noodles. "Good morning t'you too, you greedy bastards." The vines are his favourite, because they're the most dangerous. "Now, I need you to promise that y'all are going to share this." From behind him, one of the ten-foot venus flytraps is sniffing at the polystyrene in his hand discontentedly. "That goes for all of you, alright? Don't even fuckin' think about fighting." Still, they seem unconvinced, so he tosses the Chinese in the air and decides to watch them eat at a safe distance away.

"Well, here we are," he sighs, lighting his cigarette and trying really hard not to think about Adam and Barbara. It's weird, that they're sticking in his mind so much more than anyone else. Still. He's never going to see them again.

" _Hey- excuse me_!" he hears someone call from the cluster of buildings on the other side of the fence, sounding suspiciously like Barbara. How convenient for his mind to pick _now_ to manifest that? It's _supposed_ to be his relaxing time. " _Mr- um, Mr. Beetlejuice_!"

"Fuck off," he says, closing his eyes as he lies back into the crook of his elbow.

"Are you- are your plants _fighting_?" says the voice in his head, except it doesn't seem like it's in his head and instead as if Barbara's standing at his garden fence. Beetlejuice looks up and holy fucking shit, how did she even get here?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" his mouth says for him, coming out snappy rather than confused. "Shit- no, I mean- uh, hi?"

"Hello!" she says cheerily, leaning her head over the fence as if this is a casual friendly encounter and not something completely rocking his world. "It's nice to see you again. Adam says hi too, but he's too scared of the sign to come any further." She jerks a hand behind her, indicating at the **TRESPASSERS WILL BE DEVOURED** sign a few feet away from his fence. Adam waves in a way that can only be described as dorky but true to Barbara's word, does not walk past the sign.

"How- uh, how did you even, uh?" he says, and fucking hell, Beetlejuice, get it together. Why can't he form one normal, friendly sentence?

"We were chatting with this sweet little lady - she runs the grocery store, I'm sure you know her - and well, we just thought you were so sweet for helping us out that we'd just _see_ if anyone knew you." Beetlejuice is familiar with the grocery store lady; she's like, everything he wanted his mom to be. "It turns out that _you_ have quite the reputation, mister."

"Well," he articulates, before one of the flytraps starts getting bored and munching at his trouser leg. "I'm pretty well known for an interesting variety of reasons- uh, d'you wanna tell Adam he can come over here? I put that sign up, 's not true."

"Well- why did you put it up if it's not true?" Adam shouts warily from his short distance away, shifting around on the grass. "I don't want to be devoured!"

"I just hate everyone and I didn't want anyone to come up to my fence," he says, mentally punching himself when Barbara lets go of the fence. "No- fuck, _you_ guys are fine, but like. Other people." It's not true, not really- he'd give anything for people to _want_ to come up here and talk to him, but it doesn't happen because he's _him_. It's better to have the sign and create a reason rather than face the truth that nobody wants to be his friend.

Tentatively, Adam comes over to the fence. "I, um- I'm not a fan of how those plants have teeth."

"They're harmless little sweethearts, really," he promises, whistling at one of the mushrooms and crouching down as it scurries over to pat it on the head. "So, uh- what brings you guys to my lovely fence?"

"Well, you implied that you were lonely, and we're lonely too!" Barbara beams, leaning back over the fence. Traitorously, the mushroom weaves through his legs and runs up to her, jumping up to be within reach of her hands. "We could be friends!"

For some reason, this makes him feel kind of sick. That has to be a super bad idea, right? He should say no. Only, in the pause where he works out what to say their faces drop like he's already rejected it, and how the fuck is he supposed to say no _now_? "Sounds alright to me, Babs. Though these plants _will_ eat you, so I'd recommend keeping your distance."

"No, they're sweethearts really," she coos down at the mushroom, scooping it up. "Adam, honey, come and say hello!"

"I- um, don't want to get eaten, thank you!" he calls back.

"Cute," Beetlejuice says under his breath, completely and utterly meaning it. "So," he says, because now they're all just looking at each other and he thinks _shit, this is where my conversational abilities end and they're gonna think I'm fucking awkward and not want to be my friends at all_ and he clears his throat to make up a dumb excuse as to why he has to go inside-

"So, what are you going to do with the rest of the garden space?" Barbara asks, "Not that what you haven't done so far isn't lovely."

"Uh," he frowns, swatting at one of the vines. "These guys moved in before I did- and what d'you mean? What would I do with the space other than- I dunno, exist in it?"

"You could maybe, um... plant some things? Like, flowers? Or- ooh, ooh! You could do veggies! Then you could eat _nutritiously._ "

"Huh," is all Beetlejuice comes up with because he'd never thought of that before. There's probably no need to tell her that eating nutritiously doesn't _matter_ when you're dead, but that would probably involve admitting that he mostly eats rotting takeaway or recycled cans and he doesn't want to admit that. "Never done that kinda shit before. Lyds can probably get me some stuff, though."

"I'd love to see it! Adam and I could always come over here and-" something must noticeably shift on his face against his will, because she coughs delicately and changes pace. "Anyway, we should probably get going for dinner, but we'd love to catch up soon!"

 _Shit, you've scared them away_ , he thinks, grinning and saying "Sure thing, Babs. See ya round. You too, sweet-stuff!" he calls over to Adam, stuck between being excited by this and drowning in bottomless guilt. There's not much else to do other than watch them walk down the hill hand-in-hand back to the cluster of houses nearby. It can't be a coincidence that the house they got assigned is right next to his house out of the literal endless abyss of the Netherworld (and he will definitely give Maria some shit for that later) but here they are. It's almost too perfect to be true - _two_ overly nice newly-deads who are also very attractive want to be his _friends_ \- and in a way, it is.

Knowing what happened last time, knowing what happens _whenever_ Beetlejuice lets people distract him from doing his job or just generally try and improve things for him, he can't just let these people into his life. Juno will do what she always, always does, and he'll be left alone again with more guilt than he ever thought was possible. "Fuck," he says to the vines, leaning back when they start petting his hair.

Sometimes, Beetlejuice is sad. Not in the kind of way where everyone's sad sometimes, probably a little closer to an 'I'm-living-with-years-of-trauma-under-my-belt' kind of sadness, but even that doesn't quite cover it. At the end of the day, though, it's hardly the worst- sad is something he can verbalise, can use to explain why he's not in the mood for a game of Sandworms and Ladders to Lydia. Sad isn't _fun_ , not with the way it tightens around his chest and makes his head painfully heavy, but it's bearable. 

Other times, Beetlejuice is numb.

In practice, this has been a little harder to explain to Lydia. _So, you feel nothing_ , she'd tried to clarify, but even though that was the closest thing to it she couldn't have been more wrong. It's an empty, hollow feeling, but he doesn't feel _nothing_ \- that's something he longs for sometimes, and hardly something to complain about. Feeling empty is about feeling the absence of anything in itself. It's a thick, heavy feeling that runs through his veins, similar to the way that sadness makes itself at home in his body but _worse_. The emptiness makes him want the sadness; it's what makes him pick at his skin or press the lighter against his wrists or drink until he can't see because feeling awful is still feeling _something_. 

Occasionally, he'll sink so low into this emptiness that it feels like he's trapped there. Like his own body is a thick bubble, cutting him off from the rest of the world. Sometimes it's peaceful - as long as nothing too difficult happens, his body kind of moves on auto-pilot - like watching his day unfold before him as if he's a character in the world's most boring TV show. Other time's he's so desperate to get _out_ of his own head that he comes to and he's maybe gone a little too far with one of the knives from the kitchen. 

Whatever. It's not like he can kill himself.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when Lydia says, "Hey," from behind him, voice soft as if not to scare him. "I was gonna wait for you to come inside, but it's been a couple hours now."

"Hm?" he yawns, stretching but not wanting to face her. Eye contact is like, a whole _thing_ , and it's hardly his favourite. "How long you been home?"

"Dunno, a while. I stole a Die Hard DVD from this absolute dick round by the fountain, do you wanna watch it?" When he doesn't respond, she leans her head so it's resting on top of his, warm and familiar. She smells like dust and ink and comfort, and when she tries to convince him by saying, "C'mon, guns and Christmas?" he can't help but kind of smile.

"Don't mind," he says, and she pulls away, pokes his cheek as if to say _take your time_ before he hears the soft flap of her wings as she flies back to the house. Beetlejuice takes a deep breath and counts to ten in his head like Maria taught him. He's alright. Sure, when he gets inside he can't focus on the movie for more than a minute because his mind won't shut up for one fucking second, but he's alright. Besides, whenever she sees him picking at his arms or biting his nails, Lydia nudges him, sometimes to start a random conversation, sometimes to lean on him, sometimes to make him get her something from the fridge. It's blindingly obvious that she's just doing it to keep him from sinking into whatever too far, but he's thankful for it. Maybe he still feels like shit when they go to bed, but it'sn probably nothing compared to the state he'd be in if she wasn't there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. once again, chapter names and fic titles are based on a song by the wonder years i recommend you listen to.


	4. author's note

hi everyone

i thought i should leave a note for everyone who's wanting to keep up with this story. when i used to read fanfic like 24/7 i always stayed away from unfinished stuff unless i knew it was going to be updated soon. i'm writing this because for a multitude of reasons, i am currently unsure whether i will finish this. ideally, i would love to - i was really attached to the idea/characters and quite a few people seemed to like reading it. but as of right now i am not very well at all and writing is taking up a lot of energy that i don't really have. at the moment it's really all i want to be doing, so trust me when i say i will try and continue this. sorry for all the uncertainty!

thanks  
-el

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! come talk to me @bi-tlejuice on tumblr, im super lonely!!  
> also want to thank all the lovely anons who've been leaving nice comments in my inbox; you make me want to keep writing!


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